Party On, Monster
by PeaceLoveAndAcoustics
Summary: Arthur is sick of the abuse. He is sick of sitting up late at night, worrying about Alfred. But Alfred is addicted to drugs. Will Arthur fly with the monster or repel against its pressure?


Salvation. Can we seek salvation, or is it something that we must earn throughout or lives? Are we judged by the actions that we take, the decisions that we pursue? Is there a higher power out there that looks over all of the sins that we have committed, being the ultimate judge, leading and sentencing us to our demise? Is this higher power even above us, or perhaps the higher power that we take in to believing is nothing but a myth, placed into our heads as we go about our lives, trying to grasp some truth from the lies that are spilling out into our oxygen supply, filling our lungs, and plunging us down deeper in the damned hole that we belong in? But then again, without these lies, do we have anything to look forward to? Do these lies bury deep down into our brain, taking over our pleasure membranes, and taking complete control?

We never tempt these lies, do we? We never cast them out of our mind, telling them to go away and to never come back. No, our heart doesn't like to go with what our mind is begging for it to do. Our brain is screaming for us to cast out the lies, and to never let them enter again. If they do not enter, they cannot hurt us. Simple enough, right? Our heart develops a mind of its own, disobeying the mind's original plan for destruction. See, the heart doesn't want to believe that the lies that we hear every day are bad for us, so it takes bits and pieces of the lies that we intake and grabs a hold of them, cherishing them. Because, well, without lies, what would we have to hold in our heart?

Of course, our heart is full of sin, but so is our mind. So, where do you turn to? Do you go and spill your feelings to the nearest fucking shrink around the corner, emptying your wallet in tow? Or perhaps you keep it inside until you feel like you are ready to burst, so your shaky, pathetic hands reaches for that razor blade, and you pray to God that you have the courage and strength to press down.

What then?

What do we do now?

_Perhaps we'll never know. _

-  
>Arthur Kirkland woke up slowly, his green eyes fluttering open. The blonde felt like a thousand bricks were being pressed against his body, crushing his insides along with his kindred spirit. His physical health was declining drastically with each passing day, he knew that much off the top of his head. The muscles in his body just couldn't withstand anymore pressure, he skin wouldn't stand for being cut into and mutilated anymore.<p>

Deep cuts covered his entire physical presence, creating riveting canals on his limbs. He ran his fingers along the scars across his arms-they were newly inflicted, he remembered-and winced a bit. He was getting worse with each passing punishment. At the rate that the abuse was going, he wasn't going to make it much longer.

Was it fair punishment, or was it just plain abuse? If it **was **punishment, it was riding a fine line with physical torment. Indeed, the pain that he endured was strange to put it lightly, ranging from verbal threats to physical contact. What was fair punishment anymore? Anything was fair game in his mind, now that he had witnessed it all.

The British man stood slowly, walking over to the mirror. His emerald green eyes looking over his physical condition once more. The scars were becoming more and more horrendous to look at-they were just so painfully obvious, how was he going to cover them up?-his eyes watered at the sight before him. How had it come down to this? They were once so happy...

_The monster. _

That had to be it. Crank. Coke. Glass. Meth. Whatever it was that he had, he hated it all-Truth be told, Arthur just couldn't keep track of all the drugs his partner was experimenting with, but it was never just one. No, he could never just have one high going on, destroying his brain cells in the process. Whenever he snorted that fine, snowy powder, he always ended up filling his lungs with some sort of toxic smoke not even five seconds afterwards.

Arthur always walked in on him, holding his breath as he entered the room. Alfred had always wanted him to 'ride along with the monster', but the Brit always flat out refused. He had seen the effects that the drugs had on the American, and he wasn't going to get tangled up in that mess. No, he was not going to lower himself to that level of stupidity. Not now, not ever.

Then again, he always had wondered what it was like to be 'soaring on cloud nine'. He figured that Alfred never had to worry about anything while his brain was making him spin literally out of control. Arthur always had to stop and think about what his experience with the monster would be like if he ever decided to give in and have a _little _hit from Alfred's stash. Yes, one little hit was all he was going to need to satisfy his growing curiosity...

Arthur shook his head. No! This was not what he wanted! He didn't want to end up like Alfred in the end, scrambling to pay his bills, risking his freedom by buying crank on the streets, doing only God-Knows-What to earn that money to pay for his drugs of choice. Perhaps his did favors for people, physical and or sexual, but...

_Quit thinking like that you bloody wanker! _Arthur mentally scolded himself, buttoning up his white night shirt. He wasn't going to touch that toxic addiction, even if his brain was telling him that he was in the okay as long as he _a, only did it once, and b, didn't let Alfred see him stealing it from his stash. _

Well, that was a challenge within itself. Alfred always checked and re-checked his stash before he left the house each and every time, so he would definitely know if Arthur had tried some of it without asking. But, on the other hand, what if Alfred was too far gone to notice that he had had a few lines of his own? Arthur could just feel the white powder going up his nose, fogging his mind, making him forget about everything that he ever cared about.

But then there was the possibility of addiction. What if after that one little toot, he became a full blown addict? What if he was always going back for more after that _one time _experimenting? Arthur had kicked nasty, unhealthy habits in the past, sure, but none were as extreme as drug use. Would he have enough will power to say no, and to quit it for good?

He needed to stop thinking about this so much. He just needed to clear his mind, he needed to-

"Hey, Arthur."

The blonde man turned around to face the man who was smiling, leaning against the door frame for support. Arthur looked the man up and down with his green eyes, clicking his tongue in disgust. _His hair is uncombed. His clothes are stained and disorganized. His glasses are on the bridge of his slender nose, barely hanging on. And...his eyes. They're glossy, red, and puffy. _As Arthur mentally checked off his partner's imperfections, Alfred advanced towards him. "I said, hey, Arthur."

"Hello, and good morning, Alfred," Arthur said, straightening himself up, standing upright and with good posture. "And where were you last night? I stayed up all night worrying about you, you know."

"That is none of your concern," Alfred said, a laugh escaping his chapped lips. He made his way over to the bed, which he graciously fell down into, sinking deep within the safety net of the white sheets, his head gratefully resting on the soft white pillows. A soft, tired sigh escaped his lips as his lungs collapsed, and he gave in. "I was out with some friends, Arthur, I thought I told you that."

"You obviously did not," Arthur pointed out, stripping off his night shirt. "Otherwise, I would have locked the door and went to bed without you."

"C'mon, Artie. I don't wanna have to deal with your bitchin' this early in the morning." Alfred groaned, flipping over onto his stomach, not making eye contact with the British man. "Fine, I'm sorry. Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to apologize, right? Well, there is your damn apology. Now, I'm gonna sleep. G'night, Arthur."

"Out with friends, and probably selling your body for that stupid drug that you so desperately crave." Arthur stated, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Alfred."

"What did you just say?"

Arthur felt himself gaining a bit of courage. "You heard me. Or do I have to repeat myself? If I have to, then I will. This is what I said: You were probably selling your body for that stupid drug that you so desperately crave."

"Take that back."

Arthur felt a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What's the matter, Alfie? Can't handle the truth? Or are you too much of a damn coward to face your demons head on?"

"You bitch!" The man shot out of bed, and stood. He marched over to the other blonde, grabbing his wrist. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"I said that you depend to much on your little toxins to get you through the day." The courage inside of Arthur was growing, taking over his ability to think. "Let go of me now, Alfred."

Alfred's grip tightened, when he let go, there were more than likely going to be bruises on the other man's skin. "Dependent on a drug? I'm more than dependent, Arthur. More dependent than you probably realize. These drugs are my life line, and they give me more love than you possibly ever could!" He raised his other hand, and brought it down to the British man's cheek, creating a red mark. "Don't you ever disrespect me again!"

"You say it gives you love," Arthur began, backing away slowly, holding his now stinging cheek. "Show me how it loves you, Alfred. Teach me the ways of your addiction, and I will gladly follow."

"You want to know the ways of my addiction?" Alfred arched an eyebrow at the man. What could this be about? Was it some sort of stunt that he was pulling to gain sympathy? As far as Alfred knew, Arthur _despised _the thought of him using. Then...why was he suddenly interested in trying his toxins? He took another step forward, cornering the man. "Why? Why now? You had so many opportunities to fly with me, so why now?"

"Perhaps I just want to fly," Arthur said, coming up with a quick lie. _Yeah, like he'll believe that... _"Maybe I want to be as carefree as you are, Alfred. Maybe I just want to party with the monster, just this once."

Alfred's smirk tugged at his lips, creating a dangerous sneer. So, Arthur wanted to fly high with the monster? Well, he could definitely give him a run for his money. Once you snorted the monster, there was no turning back.

Sure, you always thought that you were in control and that you could beat it, but we are human, after all. It's only human nature to crave. A craving is one thing, you can curve a craving, resist temptation. An addiction? Well, that's another matter entirely. Once you have an addiction, it's hard as hell to beat. Once that drug is in your system, it wraps around your brain, warping you into an entirely different being. Your become your addiction. Your addiction controls you.

"Well, baby if you wanna fly, you gotta take a toot." Alfred watched his partner tilt his head in confusion, which made him laugh. "A hit, a snort, a shot. Whatever you wanna do, ya gotta get it in your system somehow."

"Then what?" Arthur asked, daring him to go on.

Alfred's sneer grew. "Then the magic happens." He dug deep into his pockets, retracting a small, plastic bag. Arthur could see how fine and white the powder was, just waiting to be snorted. The American man created four little lines on the little, square coffee table. "Now, this is where you come in."

"What...What do I do, exactly?" Arthur asked, nervously. He walked up to Alfred, a bit afraid to try this new experience out.

"Put your nose to the table and snort. Yeah, like that. Don't do it too fast, now. Yeah. Hey, look. You've got the hang of it." Alfred nodded in approval as he watched his British partner do the first two lines in front of him. "Hey, now. Leave some for me."

The Brit nodded, and backed away from the coffee table. Oh, was his head spinning! So, this is what flying felt like! His mind was racing back and forth, his body took over every single action that he decided to choose. He watched Alfred snort the last of the lines, pleased with his decision. He leaned his head on his lover's shoulder, smiling. _"I love you."_

_"And I love you too, Baby Doll. Now, let's fly."_


End file.
